


The Story of Dark Knight

by Zordosia (orphan_account)



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Awkward Crush, Batman AU, Childhood Trauma, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Families of Choice, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, John finally gets to be the rich vigilante he always dreamed of being, M/M, Tags and ships to be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-19 21:38:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9461348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Zordosia
Summary: A John-Laurens-is-Batman AU that got started on Tumblr and that I decided to put over here. Consists of ficlets, fics, and possibly multipart things, this is still a work in progress. Chapters are not in chronological order, but their place in the timeline is in the chapter title, and any plot progression is either explained in-text or in notes. In any case, this AU mainly focuses on the characters and their relationships.





	1. Armor (November 2014)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first fic I wrote for this piece, and it works as a good starting point so I figured I'd include it. It was inspired by conversations with wingedgods (broromini on tumblr), whose fic you should absolutely check out.
> 
> I think it's pretty clear what's going on, but in case it isn't, you can go to theoroark.tumblr.com/tagged/batman-au and look at other HCs or questions from/about this.

Hercules entered the code into the keypad and metal locker doors slid open. He flipped the handle up and pulled out the drawer. John leaned over and reached into it. Hercules smacked his hand away.

“You ‘take a look’ with your EYES, Mr. Laurens,” he said. John rolled his eyes but withdrew his hand as Hercules pointedly reached in and pulled out the chest plate. He rotated it for John, and beat a fist against the breast. “Insulated against electricity, bulletproof around the upper torso and back, mildly fire resistant. But still,” he put the chest plate down, and picked up an arm piece, and bent it at the elbow. “Very flexible. Completely new material. One of our labs burned down trying to make the stuff.” He put the arm piece back and sighed. “I’m still not sure that was an accident, though.”

John had his gaze fixed to the suit. Hercules waited and braced himself. Once he realized that Mulligan was done talking, John’s head snapped up, his most charming smile in place. Right then. “It’s amazing, Herc. Can’t believe you haven’t found a buyer yet.”

“Well, that tends to be what happens, when the company you work for has been going through a CEO a year for the past decade or so.”

John nodded, not having listened to a word he was saying. “Yeah, totally. So, listen…”

“No.”

Finally, the kid started paying attention to him. “Excuse me?”

“Look, John, you fell off the face of the earth in your teens, and just came back, and now your coming to me asking about fancy weapons, and asking the police commissioner about the Hanover Gang.”

John scowled. “My butler betrayed confidentiality, then.”

Mulligan rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Come on, kid. Your whole network, we’re practically family. I’ve known Hamilton forever, you hired him on my advice, and so I know he just wants to keep you safe. I’ve known you forever, you stayed at my place after the hospital.” John looked down, and Hercules softened his tone. “And so I know why you’re here, John. And I know that you pursuing this is going to end with you dead or in jail.”

John looked up again, jaw set. “So you should know that I’m going to do this, with or without your help. I figured my odds of not ending up dead or in jail would be better with your help. And I could help you too.” He paused and looked at Mulligan, and Hercules was reminded of the look his mother and father would get at the negotiating table, and resigned himself to the fact that the kid was going to continue to cause him pain.

“What do you mean,” he asked flatly.

“Well, like you said, the Laurens Foundation has been in shambles in recent years. I’m not any happier about that than you are. But you know, I could take a more active role, straighten out the leadership, get rid of some of the people who are just looking to ransack the place. One of my first acts would be to put much more money into research and development. But, you know, if I was going to do that…”

“You’d want to be more involved in testing the research and development, then?”

John smiled. “Of course. I just want to do good things again, Mr. Mulligan. Don’t you?”

Hercules looked at the row of lockers, the morgue of inventions and prototypes that had accumulated as one by one, Henry and Eleanor Laurens’ vision for a cleaner, safer, better city had disappeared from the annual budget. He looked at John Laurens, older now, but still that angry look in his eye, still that scared look in his eye. All the world like that kid who had come back from the hospital and who Hercules had held tight in his arms while thinking never again, I’m not going to get that close to losing this one again.

He looked down at the armor. He had been at the tests himself. If anything could keep the dumb kid alive, it was this.

He sighed and stuck out his hand. John ignored it and instead pulled Hercules into a hug. “You won’t regret this, Herc.”

“Kid,” Hercules said, his voice a little muffled. “If we’re going to work together, you’re going to need to be honest.”


	2. Advantage (March 2015)

She’d had the spotlight on for about five minutes when Commissioner Schuyler heard the soft sound of a landing on the rooftop.

“That was fast,” Angelica said to the figure crouching in the shadows. “Slow night?”

The man made no reply, but stood up and walked towards her. Angelica internally sighed. She hadn’t asked for this. She was having a hard enough time bringing the police force under her leadership without the press griping that a vigilante was doing her job for her. But with her force shot through with moles and corruption, she wasn’t going to turn down any allies.

Even if his whole schtick did make her feel a bit ridiculous.

She held the file out to him. “His name’s Alexander Hamilton. He was last sighted going into a Hanover-owned restaurant and he’s been missing for 24 hours.” 

The man took it and opened it. “Is he one of yours?”

“No, civilian. Works for the Laurens Foundation.”

“Do you think they’re involved?”

“What? Wait, no.” Angelica looked around her. The man kept his face turned down to the file. “I think this is a kidnapping. I know Alex, he’s a good guy, a family friend, he’s got a good head on his shoulders. But he’s definitely ambitious. Wants to get ahead. But he came from the bottom, he doesn’t really know how the city works.”

“So you think he got mixed up in this accidentally.” He closed the file and handed it back to her.

“Yeah. He’s the type to get himself in over his head real easy. Look,” Angelica sighed as she took the file back. “If I get the police involved, it’ll make him seem like a bigger fish than he is. It’ll put a target on his back. But an innocent inner-city kid who was just trying for the American dream, caught in the crossfires of a gang war?” She folded her arms and stared at him. “That sounds like a natural damsel in distress for the Batman, doesn’t it?”

He stared back at her for a second and then nodded. He pivoted on a heel, his cape billowing in her face. Angelica sighed again. He was definitely useful. But so, so ridiculous.

-

“The only reason I even got caught was because Howe was going to Skype with his girlfriend,” Alex said as John helped him gingerly from the Batmobile. He was clutching his ribs on one side, his shirt caked in blood, and had a black eye, but otherwise seemed fine, and he waved John off and walked the next few feet to his chair on his own steam. “Thank God, he walked in on me after I had taken out the thumb drive, but man. He was carrying flowers and everything. For Skype. Who knew this city’s gangsters were so sentimental?”

“Criminals are a superstitious lot,” John said, taking off his cowl and gloves. Alex rolled his eyes.

“That’s not the same, dude.”

“Close enough.” John pulled a chair up to face Alex and sat down. He opened the box and pulled out a roll of gauze. “Move your hand.”

Alex looked at him skeptically. “I thought I was supposed to be the one doing this.”

“Not when you’re the one hurt. Come on Alex, I learned some first aid during my training.”

“Yeah, I heard about your training. What was that first aid, ‘your fear is holding you back, embrace the sepsis?’”

“Alex.”Alex relented, letting his arm fall to the side. He stared at the cave waterfall pouring steadily behind John as John carefully pushed his shirt off his shoulders and down to his waist, fists balled as he focused on remaining completely still and not blushing. Of course, this meant that when John put his hand on one of his fists, he jumped, then cried out a little as the gash on his ribs opened. John looked up, anxious.

“I’m fine,” Alex said quickly. John frowned, and moved Alex’s hand to his shoulder, and began wrapping the bandage around his torso.

“Angelica Schuyler was very concerned about you. She called you a family friend.”

Alex smiled. “That’s nice of her. Do you think it means she won’t ream me out the next time she sees me?” John made a noncommittal noise and Alex sighed. “Worth a shot.”

“She said something else, too.”

“Oh yeah?”

“She said you’re the type in over your head easily.” John tied the bandage and sat back, looking at Alex. Alex bristled.

“What are you getting at?”

John ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “I mean… you don’t have to do this stuff. You could be just like, a normal butler. Just clean the house and take care of my appointments and shit like that. You don’t need to be involved in… all this.”  

Alex sat, a shock of anxiety paralyzing him. He had fucked up, but he had done what he had gone in to do, he thought that would be enough for John, he had hid his connections, so it wasn’t that John was worried about security, he just wasn’t good enough, again, and so John was getting rid of him. He had done so much…

The realization broke through the panic. “John, what the hell are you talking about. You can’t get rid of me.”

John looked surprised. “It’s not- I’m not trying to get rid of you. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I mean, don’t want me to get hurt? John, I don’t care what your first aid training was, you can’t remove shrapnel from the back of your leg or administer the antidote to a neurotoxin or do any of the other things I’ve done to save your ass. And for that matter, if you had to devote all your time to coordinating with Herc’s lab, cleaning and refurbishing the tech, maintaining all the connections I do to make sure your cover’s not blown- you wouldn’t have time to set foot outside in that damn suit.”

“I know that, Alex.” John rubbed at his eyes and Alex noted with some amusement that he spread the greasepaint along his cheekbones. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like I didn’t- I just-“ John looked down at his clasped hands. “I was worried about you, too,” he said. “This is my fight. Not anyone else’s. I know you took this job because you wanted to get ahead in business. I don’t want to take advantage of you, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Alex sat, speechless for the second time that night. But he could never stay quiet for too long, so finally he managed to say, incredulously, “you cannot seriously think this is just your fight.”

John frowned. “I mean, I work by myself out there- I know you help and all, but I should be the only one with skin in the game-“

“Skin in the game? Holy shit John, you’re not actually that dumb, are you?”

“My parents-“

“Were just two of the thousands of people who have died because of the corruption in this city, John!” John flinched, and one hand gripped the armor on his thigh. “You did your own background check on me, didn’t you? What did you find?” John was silent. “Well?”

“Born to an unmarried woman in St. Kitts, migrated to Gotham when you were ten, mother died when you were twelve, put in the care of your cousin, who killed himself, then put into the foster system, until you got a full ride to Columbia.” He swallowed. “Alex, look, I’m sorry-“

“Yeah, that’s not why I brought that up. You come across a Peter Lavien?”

John frowned. “I remember the name from that smuggling ring bust. What about him?”

“He’s my half brother. After mom’s will was read, he hired some thugs to rob my brother and I, took everything she left us. Ridiculous, right?” Alex laughed. “Stealing from some kids whose mom just died. Real cartoon-y villain shit. Guess he could have justified it by telling himself it was rightfully his, since he wasn’t the bastard and all. Anyway, our cousin started looking into, talking to the cops and lawyers and all. Then, all of a sudden, no warning, no note, no history of mental illness, he killed himself! And my brother and I, we let it slide after that.”

“Alex, I’m so-“

“That’s not why I’m telling you this, John!” John fell silent and Alex took a breath. He wasn’t angry at John, he couldn’t be angry at John, not when he had to explain why he deserved a place at his side.

“My point is,” Alex said, steadily as possible. “that you’re right, I want to get ahead. But I don’t want to get ahead in the system that killed my cousin and put my brother and I on the street. I don’t want to get ahead in the system that creates Peter Laviens. I want things that this city, right now, can’t give me. And I know you want to make a city that can. And so you’re not taking advantage of me, John. Not any more than I’m taking advantage of you.”

John sat, face blank, for a minute. Then he cleared his throat. “Well. Right then. Makes sense.” He stood up. “I should-“

“Oh, yeah, yeah.” John removed the suit, as Alex collected it, placing it carefully on the table, noting any sites of bloodstains or wear. When he was done, John put his hand on Alex’s shoulder, and of course Alex was caught off guard and of course he blushed.

“I am sorry, Alex. Not just for that, but you know- tonight.”

Alex sighed. “I know, John. It’s ok.” Then, because John still looked so awkward and guilty, Alex pulled him into a hug, and felt John stiffen in surprise and then relax. When he pulled away, John was smiling, and Alex felt himself smile too. “Hey, did I ever tell you why Herc thinks you hired me?”

To Alex’s surprise, John’s eyes widened. “What? Why?”

“Uh, he said because he thought you thought I would do all the same stupid shit you wanted to do. And you know, I guess he was right, right?”

John laughed. “Yeah, I guess he was.”

“Why, what did you think he said?”

“It’s late and you’re injured. Go to bed.”


	3. Roof (February 2015)

Clearly, they all thought Angelica had gotten the position through nepotism, and Angelica was not so proud as to think they were wrong. Being a Schuyler had undoubtably played a role in her rapid ascension through the ranks of the Gotham police. But that was the whole story of Gotham, where nepotism was one of the more benign forms of corruption. They should be grateful, honestly, that this broken system had somehow managed to produce a police commissioner who was good at her job.  
  
Her phone chimed, and she ignored it. “McHenry,” she asked, looking out over her conference room of dead-eyed police captains. “Has there been any progress with the art thief case?” Her phone chimed again, and she set it on silent, irritated.  
  
McHenry looked down at his papers and cleared his throat. “Not as such, Commissioner Schuyler, but she has-“ he broke off as the phone on the conference table began to ring. A table full of faces swiveled to stare at her.  
  
Angelica sighed. “No, captains, this was not on the agenda. I’m assuming it’s a wrong number. Tilghman,” she said, addressing the man closest to the phone. “Would you let them know, please?”  
  
The captain picked up the phone. “I’m sorry, but you have the wrong-“ He stopped, cut off, and his face paled. He looked to Angelica and held out the phone. “He said… he wants to speak to you.”  
  
Angelica may have ascended through the ranks quickly, but she had not done so unscathed by intimidation tactics. She prided herself on taking the receiver with a steady hand, and asking in a firm voice, “Who is this?”  
  
“On the roof.” And the line went dead. Angelica stared at it and sighed. They’d barely gotten anything done. She’d have to reschedule the meeting and everything.  
  
“Alright folks, we’re in lockdown for the time being, and I need a tactical team on the roof.” She glanced at her phone as the captains whispered amongst themselves. Ten missed text messages, all of them from a blocked number, all saying, “on the roof.”  
  
Ten minutes later, the tactical team brought down three men, unconscious and bound. Captain Sampson informed her that these men were high level smugglers in the Hanover Gang. The tactical team informed her that a spotlight had been placed on the roof as well, and had had a symbol of a bat spray painted on top of it.  
  
Angelica buried her head in her hands. She hadn’t left Paris for this.  
  
-  
  
“Because at least the guy in Paris has superpowers!” she said. “The guys had blunt force trauma wounds to the head, this guy’s clearly just some ‘roided out asshole who watched too much MMA as a kid.”  
  
“This is lovely brunch talk,” Peggy said, draining her mimosa.  
  
Angelica made a face at her and Eliza laughed. “I mean, he got all three of them, right?” she asked Angelica, who begrudgingly nodded. “That’s something. Maybe not a total asshole. Maybe at least a competent one.”  
  
“That’s worse, Betsey,” Angelica said. “I need to catch this guy before he embarrasses us.”  
  
“Speaking of embarrassing my sisters,” Peggy said, holding out her phone. “Check out what your boss is doing, Bets.”  
  
Eliza groaned and leaned back as Angelica eagerly leaned in. “How bad is it, on a scale of one to ten.”  
  
“‘Local billionaire playboy John Laurens had another run-in with the Gvasalias…”  
  
“Eleven. Fuck!” Eliza pulled out her phone as Peggy and Angelica giggled, and quickly typed something out. “‘Come work for the Laurens Foundation, Eliza! You can do all that nonprofit stuff you always wanted to do, Eliza! You just have to make us look good, Eliza!’ I swear to God, if I could just lock him in his house for 24 hours, I could work out a solution to our homelessness problem.”  
  
“He’d still have access to Twitter,” Peggy pointed out, scrolling through her phone.  
  
“Look, we’re all in agreement that Eliza’s situation is hopeless, so can we get back to my problem?” Angelica said. “I have to get in front of this vigilante thing somehow, or else it’s going to sink my whole term.” She turned to Eliza, batting her lashes. “Can you give me some free P.R. consultation?”  
  
Eliza put her phone in her pocket, rolling her eyes. “Well, when you ask so nicely…” Angelica reached out to her, pouting. “Ugh, fine. Look, what do you know about this guy?”  
  
“Based on reports of eyewitnesses, that he has a leather fetish.”  
  
“It looked more like carbon composites and lightweight metal polymers to me,” Peggy commented. The other two ignored her and she vindictively switched her empty mimosa glass for Eliza’s full one.  
  
“I mean, why is he doing this?” Eliza asked. “Do you think it is just for the love of punching? Do you think he’s copycatting le Homme de Acier? Do you think it’s a trap?”  
  
“I’m not sure,” Angelica admitted.  
  
“Well then I’d try to figure that out before you do anything else. But once you do, you want to know my impression?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“He wouldn’t have left that spotlight if he didn’t need your cooperation. I have a feeling you have more leverage than you think here.”  
  
Angelica leaned back, thinking it over, before a text alert disturbed her. She checked her phone, swore, and stood up. “Guys, I’m so sorry, but I have to go right now. Cover me this time?”  
  
“My taxes already pay your salary,” Peggy said, and Eliza hit her in the shoulder before turning back to Angelica.  
  
“Of course. What happened?”  
  
Angelica pushed her chair in with her knee as she pulled on her coat. “My boss called.”  
  
-  
  
Angelica barreled through her office door, then stopped in her tracks when she saw a slim man in an expensive suit sitting in the chair in front of her desk. She swore internally. Of course District Attorney Burr would ambush her like this. Heaven forbid she have the opportunity to marshal her resources or put on a less brunch-y outfit. Well. Couldn’t be any worse than her confirmation hearing. She lifted her head up, put on her widest smile, and walked around to take a seat at her desk. “Mr. Burr. What did you want to talk about today?”  
  
Burr had an oversized smile of his own, one that she was far too familiar with. “You know, Angelica, It wouldn’t kill you to start with some pleasantries every once in a while.”  
  
“It’s a Saturday, and I was with my sisters. I apologize for being a bit abrupt, but it’s been a long week, and I’m sure you’d like to get back to your weekend as soon as possible as well.”  
  
“Your sisters! How are they?”  
  
“Mr. Burr.”  
  
“Alright then.” His smile diminished slightly and he leaned back in his chair. “I heard about what happened last night. I think you’d agree that we need to discuss the best way to handle this situation.”  
  
Angelica nodded. She had prepared herself for this conversation the cab ride over. “I believe that our first job needs to be determining the motive of this man. Civilians have been talking about him as some kind of hero-figure, yes, but we have no idea what he really wants. Our eyewitness reports come from the harbor, and his victims were smugglers, so I believe we should set up stake out teams there and at other known smuggling locations, with recording equipment, the works. That way, even if we don’t apprehend the man—“  
  
“Well now, let’s not be too hasty.”  
  
Angelica had not prepared for this. “Mr. Burr?”  
  
Burr’s smile had faded entirely, and he looked pensive now. “Those gangsters he caught, Angelica. We’d arrested them before. But they always refused to talk, then always slipped through our fingers. This time? They’ve spilled enough to indite the whole ring, and none of their friends have come running to their rescue. Something this man’s doing, it’s working.”  
  
She frowned. “Burr, if that’s what you think he’s doing, he’s a vigilante, we can’t be seen as condoning this, what kind of message would that send?”  
  
Burr looked Angelica in the eyes, and she was surprised to see how he was, for once, transparent with his intensity. “Your force is hobbled by corruption. I’m not blaming you, that’s just how it is. If you ever want to clean up this place, you’re going to need outside intervention. And since the feds have left us to slowly die, I think we should think long and hard before we throw away this shot.”  
  
“It’s not sustainable,” Angelica said.  
  
“It doesn’t have to be forever. But it could be a catalyst.” Burr stood up. “He made contact with you. You’re the one with the final say here. Just think about it, Angelica.”  
  
“I will.” Burr nodded and left.  
  
-  
  
Angelica sat on the roof for an hour, flipping through the eyewitness reports, the internal emails, texts from her sister. Then she stood up and turned on the spotlight.  
  
Ten minutes later a dark figure passed through the beam of light. Angelica pushed herself away from the radiator she had been leaning against, and walked towards the figure in black, who was crouching on the roof. “So this is what, your pager, then?”  
  
The man said nothing, so Angelica continued. “I want to be clear. I didn’t take this job as a political springboard or as some kind of,” she looked distastefully at his costume, “power trip. I took this job because I believed I was the best person for it. I took this job because I trust that my judgment and my insight and my skill can help this city. I don’t know who you are, but I know you don’t know more about police work than I do. I don’t know you and I don’t trust you. My point is, if you want to work together, you’re going to have to work for me. And if I feel like you’re trying something behind my back, I will go after you.”  
  
The man finally spoke, in a masked, gravelly voice. _“I understand. But I need to be above politics. Above the police. A symbol.”_  
  
“You need to be accountable to someone who represents the public. And I’ll be honest. You’re not going to get anyone better than me.”  
  
The man stood up to his full height, and Angelica slid her hand down her hip, towards her gun. But the man nodded. _“What do you want from me?”_  
  
“No killing.”  
  
_“But I need to—“_  
  
“I don’t care. We need some kind of rule of law left here. Can you do this,” she waved her hand at him, “thing, without killing?”  
  
The man hesitated, then nodded. “ _Yes_.”  
  
“You don’t tell me who you really are. I’m in murky enough territory as is. I want some kind of deniability left.” The man nodded. “You keep property damage to a minimum. You see my people doing something, and you know they’re clean, you stay out of their way. Got it?”  
  
_“So you know your force is corrupted.”_  
  
Angelica gave him a scathing look. “Would I be even entertaining this idea if I didn’t?” She thought she heard the man laugh a little, and then he nodded. “So. Got it?”  
  
_“Yes.”_  
  
“Good.” Angelica pulled a file folder from her purse. “The men you caught last night. They’ve given us evidence on these guys, but they’ve all gone to ground ever since last night. Think you can bring them in?” The man looked at the pictures then spun, jumping on to the ledge of the roof and raising up his arms.  
  
“One second,” Angelica called. “What are we supposed to call you?”  
  
The man turned around and looked at her. _“Batman,”_ he said. Then he jumped. Angelica heard a sound similar to a kite catching a breeze, and then saw the man gliding to the next building.  
  
Angelica rubbed her temples as she opened the rooftop door and headed back downstairs. Burr was right. This was, depressingly, the brightest bit of hope she had found on the job so far. A man with a silly costume and a sillier name.


	4. How to Fight (July 2015)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've tried to keep these chapters in chronological-ish order, but I wanted to put something about Frances in here, because she's become one of my favorite parts of the series. I talked about this on my blog some, but basically- Martha Manning is in this AU a Talia al Ghul type, except she nopes out of her dad's creepy martial arts club, goes on the run from him, and sends Frances to John until it's safe for her to join them.

It was unfair, he knew. But the more he got involved in Frances’s life, the more Alex kept comparing his childhood to hers. Like the time he had gotten into a fight with another kid and had his mom called. He’d sat in the principal’s office, glass windows placing him on display, pretending he didn’t see his classmates staring at him and whispering, for hours, until his neighbor had been able to come pick him up.  
  
Frances, on the other hand, could just walk up to a Rolls Royce idling outside Gotham’s most prestigious private school.

Frances looked surprised as she climbed in the back seat of the car. “Dad’s not here?”

“Nope, tied up at work. But he’s going to talk to you when he gets home.” Of course John wasn’t here. Alex didn’t know why he was surprised that John had decided to delegate parenting to him, too. His job was to run John’s personal life for him, so that John could devote all his energy to saving the city. He wasn’t sure why he had thought raising a daughter would be any different from planning a party or tweeting aspirational messages. So maybe he should have expected it. He didn’t exactly know why he resented it, but maybe it had something to do with the fact that the principal had referred to him as Frances’s “nanny.”

Frances nodded and buckled herself in, and Alex peeled away from the curb. He wove through the Gotham City traffic, trying not to catch glimpses of her as he checked his rear view mirror. She was staring out the window, downcast. Alex clenched his hands on the wheel. He wasn’t a nanny. He wasn’t Frances’s mom. John said he would handle this when he got home. This was his problem. Frances was a good kid, he liked kids in general, but that didn’t mean John could take advantage of him. Alex didn’t have to do this.

Frances drew her knees up to her chest.

It was just that he didn’t have to do this, he shouldn’t do this. John had made it clear he wasn’t interested in a relationship with Alex, and that had hurt like hell. If Alex was going to keep working for him, he couldn’t get their lives any more entangled. He needed space if he was ever going to move on. He couldn’t have the kid dragging him down.

Frances sniffled.

Well, shit. “Do you want to tell me what happened, Frances?”

Frances jerked her head up, wiping at a single tear track. “It wasn’t anything. It was dumb.”

“Dumb’s a relative word.” Frances frowned.

“ _I_ think it was dumb.”

“Oh yeah? What made it so dumb?”

Frances leaned forward. “Todd Payne said that there hadn’t been any girls in charge of countries. And he wouldn’t believe me when I told him there were. So I got out my phone at recess and looked it up and showed him, but he still wouldn’t admit it. He kept telling me I was wrong and all his friends were laughing and none of them believed me and so I told him to admit I was right or I would punch him, and he didn’t, and so I punched him.”

Alex watched as Frances spoke, her face twisting, so familiarly, from sadness to anger. “But why did you punch him? I know, because he wouldn’t say you were right,” Alex said as Frances opened her mouth. “I mean, why did you tell him ‘admit it or I’ll punch you’?”

“Because he was wrong!” Frances looked at him, confused. “He was wrong and no one… everyone just was acting like he wasn’t wrong. I was right and he was wrong but they didn’t get it. And that’s not ok.”

Alex sighed as he merged onto the freeway. “Well Frances, fights aren’t the way to deal with people who are wrong.”

Frances was silent for a minute, staring at the cars speeding in the opposite direction. “I don’t believe that,” she said finally.

Alex looked in the rearview mirror. “Excuse me?”

“I know adults fight all the time. Dad teases you about you being all angry. You and Ms. Schuyler and Mr. Mulligan fight a lot. You and dad fought.”

“Yes, Frances, but those weren’t physical fights.”

“My mom fought,” Frances says quietly. “Physical fought.”

Alex felt his stomach drop. He didn’t know much about what Frances’s life was like with her mother, and he didn’t think John knew much more. But whatever else John knew clearly scared him, and had him handling Frances with kid gloves— banning any TV show or movie that could be considered violent if you so much as looked at it sideways, never even raising his voice around her, keeping her as far away from the Batman as possible.

“Frances,” he said.

“She did!” Frances said angrily. “I know she did! I remember! I know I do!”

Never uttering a word to her about her mother. “Ok,” Alex said softly. “I know.”

The two of them sat in silence as Alex turned into their neighborhood, Frances staring out the window again, Alex keeping his eyes straight on the road. They pulled into the long driveway of the Laurens manor. Alex opened the passenger door for Frances and then, as she was unbuckling, knelt beside it. She looked down at him, surprised. “I have fought,” he said. “A lot. A lot of the time I regretted it. But sometimes I didn’t. Do you want to know what I learned from all that fighting?”

Frances nodded.

“People are wrong a lot,” Alex said. “And so if you go around punching everyone who’s wrong, you’re going to get in a lot of trouble. And you know what? Sometimes, if you just let people be wrong, they’ll end up hurting themselves a lot worse than any punch.” _This is probably the wrong lesson to be teaching a kid,_ he thought as Frances giggled, but hell, John could deal with it. “And sometimes a person being wrong doesn’t do anything, because that person is never going to do anything anyway. But sometimes, a person being wrong will hurt other people. And that’s when you need to fight. But even then, punches aren’t always the best choice, ok?”

Frances nodded. “Ok.” Alex smiled and took her hand, leading her to the house.

“And you want to know something else, Frances?” he said. Frances looked up at him expectantly. “Sometimes, you might even be wrong.”

Frances put a finger to her chin, mock-contemplatively. “I don’t believe that,” she said after a minute.

Alex laughed as he opened the front door for her. “Yeah, me neither.” Frances giggled and Alex felt himself being dragged back down.


	5. Catwoman (February 2015)

    “Commissioner Schuyler?”  
  
    Angelica turned to face the officer. They were standing on the front step of one of Gotham’s brownstones, bathed in alternating red and blue light as police milled around the scene, talking to witnesses, assuring residents, and attempting to divert an irate Mr. Carter from demanding to speak to Angelica again.  
  
    “Yes?”  
  
    “I found something at the scene of the crime, and I think you’d like to see it.”  
  
    Angelica brightened. The Catwoman left almost no evidence at the scene of the crime, she wore a disguise that left her difficult to get any kind of identification from, and she could melt into the city without a trace. Angelica was starved for a lead, any lead. “Excellent. Lead the way, Officer…” Angelica hesitated, unable to place the officer in the scores that were working this case.  
  
    The officer smiled. “Office Charmchi, ma’am. Right this way.”  
  
    The two headed up the brownstone, into a high-ceilinged room with statues and sculptures dotting the floor and art covering the wall. An empty frame was lying on the ground.  
  
    “It’s kind of a shame, isn’t it?” Officer Charmchi said, staring at the frame.  
  
    Angelica looked at her. “That it was stolen, you mean?”  
  
    “No, that it was here in the first place.” Angelica raised an eyebrow, and Charmchi continued. “This is a Basquiat, you know? It cost Mr. Carter $4.5 million, but it’s priceless. And it was being hoarded, away from all the people who could have loved it and been inspired by it and learned from it, because this one man wanted a status symbol that he’ll look at maybe once a month. It doesn’t seem right.”  
  
    Angelica cleared her throat. “I think you should leave the justifications of theft to the defense attorney, Officer.”  
  
    Charmchi gave her a toothy smile. “Of course. I just know you’ve been working on this case a lot, Commissioner. I wanted to know if you had any thoughts.”  
  
    “My thoughts have been mainly about how to catch the thief.”  
  
    “Hmmm.” Charmchi tapped her pen to her chin. “Well, that’s too bad. Anyway. Would you like to hear the description of Catwoman that we got?”  
  
    Angelica started, wide-eyed. “You got a description? Of her out of her disguise?”  
  
    “Yes ma’am.”  
  
    “Christ,” Angelica pulled her notepad out of her pocket and took the pen Charmchi offered her, so hastily that she barely registered pricking herself with it. “I enjoyed our discussion and all, Officer, but lead with that next time. This is the biggest break on the case we’ve gotten.”  
  
    “I’m glad to see you so happy,” Charmchi said, and Angelica looked at her oddly but laughed nonetheless.  
  
    “Yeah, I’ll be real happy when I don’t have to deal with Gotham’s richest and laziest telling me I’m not doing my job right.”  
  
    Charmchi laughed too, and tucked her hands behind her back. “Of course, Commissioner. Well. Anyway. The description.” Angelica nodded excitedly. “Well. She was a young woman, about five-foot-seven, 150 pounds.”  
  
    “Good. Keep going.” Angelica hurried to write it all done, her handwriting slipping a little as she rubbed at the puncture wound on her index finger irritatedly.  
  
    “Dark brown hair about shoulder length, she was wearing it up in a ponytail. Brown eyes. Looked like she was Persian.”  
  
    Angelica’s pen stopped on her notepad. She looked up at Officer Charmchi. Officer Charmchi, who had a Persian last name and dark brown hair in a ponytail and brown eyes, who looked to be about five-foot-seven…  
  
    “Quite intelligent, apparently, and witty and beautiful, supposedly very talented at swiping police uniforms from her one night stands…”  
  
    “Alright, that’s enough.” Angelica dropped her notepad and pen on the floor and reached for her walkie talkie. “I don’t know what you thought was going to happen here, but I’m not going to let you go just because you have some art school Robin Hood thing going. I hope this was fun-“ Angelica frowned, patting at herself, unable to find her walkie talkie.  
  
    “You’re right, unfortunately,” the Catwoman said, pulling out Angelica’s walkie talkie and cell phone from her jacket. “I needed to take some precautions.”  
  
    Angelica ran towards the Catwoman and she dodged out of the way. As Angelica reached forward, a wave of dizziness hit her, and she staggered to find her balance. “What-?”  
  
    The Catwoman walked to where Angelica had been standing and picked up the pen she had dropped. “Including sedating you.” She clicked the top of the pen and two teeth came out of either side, and then immediately retracted. “I really do feel bad about it, I promise. But I didn’t want us to fight.”  
  
    It was becoming impossible to stand, and Angelica fell to her hands and knees, breathing slowly and deeply as the floor swirled below her. The Catwoman hummed a sympathetic note. “You’ll be fine, don’t worry. It shouldn’t last more than an hour or so.” Angelica heard her footsteps heading towards the north wall, and she rolled onto her back, lolling her head back to see the Catwoman firing a grappling hook up to a window and begin to climb towards it. She looked back at Angelica and waved. “It was nice meeting you at last, Commissioner. You’re right, this was fun. We should do it again some time.”  
  
    “Why would you show me your face?” Angelica managed to say. “Why would you talk to me? Don’t you know how dangerous that is, for you?”  
  
    The Catwoman stopped, balancing about halfway up the wall. She looked down at Angelica, smiling benignly. “Well,” she said. “I figured I’d give you something else to think about.”  
  
    And with that, propelled herself the rest of the way to the window, blew Angelica a kiss, and disappeared out of the house and into the night. Angelica’s vision faded to black.  
  
-  
  
    “She could have been around 5’7”,” Angelica told the sketch artist. “Maybe 150 pounds.” She rubbed her head. “She smiled a lot. Full lips.”  
  
    Captain Tilghman looked down at her. “Commissioner, it’s been a long night, and you’ve been through a lot. You can do this tomorrow.”  
  
    “No,” Angelica snapped. “Can I see?” she asked the sketch artist. The woman handed her the drawing, and Angelica stared. “Yes,” she said at last. “This looks like her. I’d like to make a copy, is that alright?”  
  
    “Sure.”  
  
    “Thank you.” Angelica stood up. “Tilghman. I want you to pull all the security tapes from the brownstone, get any image you can of the woman who spoke to me. Ask every person who was at that scene if they had any kind of interaction with her. And look into requests for new female uniforms.”  
  
    Tilghman frowned. “Commissioner, I really think-“ Angelica stopped, her hand on the door knob to her office, and glared at him. “Right. Yes. I’ll get right on it.”  
  
    Angelica taped the sketch to a book and set it up next to her computer on her desk. She glanced at it as she opened up the Catwoman case file. “Right,” she muttered. “Something new to think about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since the tags and my shipping history makes it clear- Maria Cosway is Catwoman.


	6. R&D (March 2015)

“Herc!” Alex yelled as the doors to Laurens Research and Development Offices slid open. He looked around the clinical office space, rows of clunky white tables topped with elaborate computer set ups, and nobody in sight. He crossed the room to the door on the opposite side, and knocked. “Herc?” he called again.

No answer. “Ah well,” Alex muttered to himself. He walked back across the room to one of the computers, sat down in the swivel chair in front of it, and typed in the log in information for John Laurens. Herc would have let him do it anyway, probably. Better to ask forgiveness than permission and all that.

“Organize your damn internal drive,” Alex said, continuing to mutter as he clicked through the filing system. “Come on Herc, it’s like you’re trying to keep the extrajudicial vigilante abetment thing hidden or something.” He paused, then clicked back a screen, then clicked on a folder labeled “Pics of Kids.” It contained a single Excel sheet, listing the inventory of the Laurens Foundation combat prototypes, and the codes for accessing them in the R&D vault. “Perfect, Herc. Hide it as something that no one would willingly decide to look at.” He spun and jumped out of the chair, bumping straight into a young woman who was exiting the vault.

“I’m so sorry-“ he began.

“Who are you?” she asked.

Alex looked down at her. She had short curly hair and thick hipster glasses, and her electric wheelchair had a tablet on a swivel on the right side. She was keeping a finger on that screen as she stared expectantly at him.

“Well?” she asked. Alex swallowed nervously.

“I’m uh, Alexander Hamilton?” She looked at him blankly. “I’m a friend of Herc’s? Uh, Hercules’s?”

“I don’t think Mr. Mulligan lets his friends into the vault,” she said. She was typing something out on the tablet.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, of course! I’m not like, just a friend of his. I’m John Laurens’s personal assistant.” She continued to stare. “Like, _Laurens_ John Laurens?”

“So… why are you trying to get in to the vault?” she asked, and Alex deflated.

“Could you just call Herc please?”

“Oh trust me, I am,” she said. “I’m just also calling a few other people. So…”

Alex flopped back down into his swivel chair, raising his hands in defeat. The woman smiled and drove around him, and settled at the computer he had been using. Alex turned and looked back at her. “You’re not worried?” he asked.

“Why would I be worried?” she said, still facing the screen.

“What if I had a gun or a knife or something?”

“You wouldn’t be able to get anything like that down here. Security would catch that much, I’m sure.”

“Well, still.” She turned around to face him, an eyebrow raised.

“I had my back to a massive arms stockpile and my finger on the master console for this lab. I wasn’t too worried.” Alex slumped back down and folded his hands across his chest as the woman resumed her work on the computer, conceding defeat and resigning himself to embarrassment.

It came about five minutes later as Alex heard the faint sound of a keypad unlocking the entrance. He and the woman turned around to see Hercules Mulligan and two security guards entering the lab. Hercules looked around, out of breath and anxious, before spotting the woman and sighing in relief, then spotting Alex and straightening up again in surprise.

“Alex? What the hell are you doing here?”

Alex ran one hand over his face. “So, look, you know I needed that thing, and it seemed like you were busy…” He heard the sound of muffled laughter behind him, and turned to glare at the unapologetic looking woman.

“Oh my God,” Hercules said, smiling. He turned to the guards. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay. He’s just an idiot.” Alex gave a small wave as the security guards appraised him, then turned and left. Hercules walked over to him and smacked him upside the head, then leaned on his shoulders, ignoring his protests, as he addressed the woman. “Sorry about that, Ms. Schuyler. Mr. Hamilton has just inherited some of his boss’s entitlement issues.”

Alex started. “Wait. Schuyler?”

“Yeah, Peggy. Peggy Schuyler.” The woman shook her head to chase away the last of her laughter, and looked over at him. “You know my sister, right?”

Alex felt a wave of dread. “How did you know?”

“Her sister, Eliza,” Hercules said loudly, glaring down at Alex. “She works with John a lot, so of course Mr. Hamilton has met her.”

Peggy looked between the two of them, Alex still looking nervous and Hercules still looking exasperated. “Right,” she said finally. “I should probably let you guys get to whatever you were going to do. Nice meeting you, Alexander.” She took the chair out of its locked mode and turned away from the two.

“Likewise,” Alex said. She held hand up in farewell and Alex watched her drive into the next room. When the door closed, Alex spun and hit Hercules on the shoulder.

“You hired the police commissioner’s kid sister to work at the Batman’s lab??”

Hercules rubbed at his shoulder, as though the blow could have possibly hurt him. “Look, man, I didn’t have much of a choice, ok? She was top of her class, Eliza recommended her, I’d have to do a helluva lot of explaining as to why I didn’t hire her.” He rolled his eyes when Alex continued to glower. “And besides, she was at _the top of her class_. She’s already done a shit ton of stuff around here. If you think about it, it actually helps John, since we’ll get the job done better and faster. And she’s a really cool person once you get to know her. Real funny. Weird taste in music.”

Alex sank back in the chair, tapping his fingers against his leg rapidly. “I still don’t like it,” he said after a minute. “It just seems too risky. Can’t you reassign her somewhere else?”

“Tried that,” Hercules said. “Told administration to send her to IT for her interview. She came back the next day with a portfolio of her work and refused to speak to anyone but me. And Eliza came down and told me I better at least talk to her or she’d fuck me over, in so many words.” He snorted, shaking his head. “I mean, you’re right Alex. We ever try to go up against the Schuylers, we’re not going to win that one. But if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em, right?”

“That’s not what that means at all,” Alex said.

“It kind of is.” Hercules began pushing the swivel chair Alex was sitting in towards the door. “Now if you’ll excuse me, my staff and I have some work to do.”

“But I still need the—“

“I’ll get them to you as soon as possible.” He pushed Alex through the sliding doors, and waved as they closed on Alex’s glaring face.

He heard Alex yell “I’m telling Beth about the file name!” through the frosted glass. Hercules paused a minute, then shook his head and walked away. It wasn’t his fault that few of his coworkers had experienced the joys of parenthood. Beth would understand.

He settled into his office and the comfortable rhythm of work. A couple hours later, he heard a knock on the door. “Come in,” he called.

The door swung outward and Peggy drove in. “Sorry about earlier, sir.”

“Don’t be,” said Hercules. “Alex deserves to have some second thoughts the next time he comes barging into my lab and messing around.” He looked over at her, her hands carefully folded in her lap. “Was there something else you wanted to talk about?”

“Well, yes, actually,” Peggy said. “After Mr. Hamilton submitted to his detention, I looked into what he had been doing, to make sure he hadn’t compromised our systems. He hadn’t thankfully, but he had opened up a document I wasn’t familiar with.” She adjusted her glasses. “One that listed some combat technology that I hadn’t heard of. Not here, at least. I seem to remember hearing about the Batman using some of that equipment.”

Hercules stared at her. Her face was the same carefully constructed neutral as Eliza’s had been when she had been threatening him. He put his head in his hands.

“Are you going to tell your sister?” he asked. He heard Peggy snort and he looked up, surprised.

“That’d put Angelica in the worst goddamn position. She has to litigate against the richest person in Gotham, and she loses her check on corrupt cops. I know she complains about him, but right now, the Batman’s doing her a solid. No, don’t worry,” Peggy said. She leaned forward. “I just want in.”

If you can’t beat ‘em, Hercules thought. He stuck out his hand and Peggy shook it, smiling. “But you’re going to have to deal with Alex from now on.”

Peggy laughed. “I wouldn’t worry to much about that one, sir.”

“No,” Hercules said. “I suppose I shouldn’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarification of Peggy's role- https://theoroark.tumblr.com/post/156237149950/does-peggy-know-about-johns-vigilante-thing

**Author's Note:**

> I have a rough idea for how I want this AU to go, but right now I'm mainly just exploring it. If you have questions, want to talk to me, prompts, whatever, you can comment or reach me at theoroark on tumblr. I love feedback from anyone, so feel free to do so.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this, and any comments or kudos would mean the world to me!


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